Run Forever
by bitterviolet
Summary: The recent events in Draco Malfoy's life seem to force him into a position he'd give anything to escape, and for everyone's surprise, relief comes in the form of a certain brunette – only whom he happens to resent dearly.
1. What have you done, Hermione?

******So, this story is set in Hogwarts, sixth year. Lucius is not in Azkaban. The plot will become clear soon, though I can tell you that it's definitely a Dramione fic ;)**

**This is my very first HP fic that I upload here. English is not my first language – not even the second – so there are probably going to be many errors in this writing, sorry about that. If you see any, please, tell me so I can correct them (I could not find a beta just yet).**

**WARNING: Rated M for language, graphic sexual situations in the future and possible violence.**

**I'm not sure if I'm good at this but if somebody finds this story interesting I will make it a few more chapters longer, so reviews are highly appreciated, even if you didn't like it. :) I will try to avoid OOC-ness as much as possible, so I don't mind if you tell me how I could do better ;) **

**And now, the story…**

…

'_You cannot run forever, son.'_

That was the only sentence Hermione managed to read through the book-filled shelves, as the rest of the letter was covered from her sight by the young Malfoy's shoulder. His left hand was lying peacefully on the table, carefully sheltering the top of the parchment from being peeked at by any unwanted observers. He did not need to be on the look-out though, as this part of the library was rather secluded and pretty much abandoned at this hour.

The majority of the students were back in their respective houses by this time. Dinner had been served more than an hour ago, and Madam Pince was already on her usual checking walk, ushering the remaining pupils out before finally closing the doors on the books for the day.

Hermione was not entirely sure how exactly she ended up hiding behind the shelves. She came down to find some reference on the potion she knew Snape would teach them on their next lesson; being prepared upfront could never hurt your grades, according to the brown haired witch. It was the only way she could keep her prominent status among all those Slytherins, especially as their professor was the head of that hated house.

Just a few minutes earlier the brunette was browsing through the books related to healing elixirs, when she heard a loud snort coming from the other side of the huge book case. It was a snort she knew all too well, and one that – along these years – she learnt should never left to be ignored.

The snort belonged to Draco Malfoy.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, her movement of lifting a book from the shelf froze in mid-air while she was waiting for the familiar, sharp comment on her smarty-pants-like behavior. Yet, even after painfully long moments of waiting, the remark simply failed to come. She took a deep breath and turned around timidly, only for her sight to meet the traces of bright, silver hair sifting through the gaps between the stacked books.

After a few minutes of just standing there and carefully avoiding any movements that would cause even the slightest noise, Hermione realized that Malfoy was nowhere near aware of her presence. He was apparently way too engaged in reading something, but according to his previous snort, he did not seem to take the content of the parchment very seriously. After taking a deep breath the bloke run a hand through his ruffled hair, and ever so slowly he lowered his head into his hand, looking downright careworn.

And that was the moment Hermione decided to have a glimpse on the script.

You see, it was not like her to violate someone's privacy so directly. It was not like her to take that step towards the book case, and it was definitely nothing like her to stand on her tip-toes just to catch a glance of the current subject of Draco's interests. Doing so was nothing the witch would any other day list as stuff fitting her ordinary behavior, but the fact that Malfoy was acting so out of his usual character lately piqued her curiosity to no end.

Harry was the first to notice the change in Draco's typically annoying demeanor, right on the first day of their sixth school year. The blond haired boy took rather hurried steps towards the train when Harry saw his figure on Platform 9 ¾ after the summer. The train filled up quickly, and just after it left King Cross Station, The-boy-who-lived bumped into his arch enemy on one of the carriages. Malfoy appeared to be rather distracted and much in a hurry, though Harry had no idea where anyone would rush on a moving train which definitely would not reach its destination sooner than originally planned anyway. Still, Draco was nervously shooting glances over his shoulder, and sidestepped him with paying little to no attention to his presence.

"Potter," he quickly greeted in a very formal fashion, but before the owner of the mentioned name could react the other teenager was already out of his sight. 'Potter.' That was it. No cynicism, no 'How was your summer, Potter? Have you been feeding your Weasels properly?' and not even a single 'Do me a favor and go die.' Not one of his commonly used offences left his mouth, just 'Potter.'

Two months had passed since then, and Hermione couldn't remember the last time they had such quiet days here at Hogwarts. They encountered Draco and his followers a few times, but Malfoy showed no interests in crossing them in any way, barely even acknowledging their presence. Given, the guy's God complex did not ease a bit and he was still walking around with a stare that categorized basically everything inferior to his mighty existence, but that was about it. He did not hex them on their lessons, he did not talk back to his teachers so disrespectfully, and neither did he throw any insults at Hermione or her friends for these last months.

"Scarhead and his little gang of justice are definitely not worth my attention," he said once before by-passing the trio with Goyle, Crabbe and a few other Slytherins. 'Scarhead' and the 'gang of justice' has been the worst taunts Draco produced in this school year so far, and truthfully, it was nowhere near the most horrible thing he ever said to any of them. Harry and Ron had been highly suspicious at the first few weeks; the latter even considered the option of Malfoy having some kind of long term evil plan that would hit them when they got used to his passivity and didn't expect a strike. Though Harry disagreed, Hermione had to admit it was not a really unimaginable plot at all…

Perhaps it was her everlasting curiosity, or just her fear out of being tricked by Malfoy later on, but whatever it was, it made the witch go against her initial nature, and so she was risking getting caught as she was silently staring Draco's back. He remained blissfully unaware of the pair of brown eyes burying in the back of his head while he was re-reading the letter for the fourth time. Finally, with an exasperated sight he sunk the parchment back to his rucksack, but his distraction obviously did not leave his actions. Taking up a few books from the table in front of him he slowly stood up, making Hermione take a step back from the shelves, readying herself to run for her life if it came down to it. Malfoy was her worst enemy in school grounds after all, Merlin only knows what he'd do if he found out she was spying on him.

Much to her relief Draco set out the opposite way, towards the entrance of the library, and when the sound of fading footsteps finally died down completely, Hermione let out a thankful breath and decided to leave her shelter. _'You cannot run forever, son.'_ Though she wasn't able to see the signature on the letter, she was rather sure it was from his father. Surely, she had no real reason to believe her mother would not use such a threatening tone with her child, but Hermione knew the antics of Lucius Malfoy all too well to put such a menacingly toned letter past him. Or was it supposed to me menacing? She had no idea of the context. _'You cannot run forever, son.'_ She imagined it could be interpreted even… supportive, now that she thought about it. It was not likely, but still a possibility nonetheless. If only she could have a peek at the rest of the writing then perhaps she would know…

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes when she stepped out from the covering of the case. The black rucksack of Malfoy lay next to the chair he was sitting on moments ago, and it was completely, utterly unattended. Her eyes widened immediately upon sensing the opportunity.

The thought of simply reaching into the pocket of the bag and taking the letter as it was idly crossed her mind, but her perpetual common sense told her to just walk past. Malfoy could be described by many unpleasant adjectives, but if anything, he was not forgetful. He must have just left to place those books back to their right shelves. He would come back soon, and the witch knew that for sure.

On one side, Hermione was dying to get her hands on that parchment, but her stomach was already tingling with the all-too-familiar feeling that screamed danger. Her curiosity was killing her, but risking getting caught by Malfoy as she was going through his personal belongings? Definitely not a good idea. The clock was ticking though, and she knew that if she was going to do something, she'd better do it fast.

Looking around she stood still for a few more seconds, feeling a strong pull towards the door. For a moment she contemplated the idea of just leaving the whole scene behind, but something inside her would not let her move. For all she knew, Malfoy could have been plotting Harry's murder behind his back… What if that letter unraveled something about his recent behavior? What kind of a friend she was if she'd just let such an outstanding opportunity slip after getting so close to revealing the wizard's secret? She couldn't very well just pretend not to notice Draco's newfound blank mien, and then later curse herself for leaving when he makes the first move to sabotage her friend somehow, could she?

Moreover, what use it was to be in Gryffindor if she couldn't even face the possible consequences of an act that required some bravery on her side? Well, in this case, slightly more bravery than she ever needed, but still…

'_You cannot run forever, son.'_

No, she couldn't just walk by. _**This**_ was her chance, and she was going to take it.

Checking for any approaching figures Hermione rushed to the rucksack and unzipped a pocket without hesitation, only to realize her hands were shaking rather terribly. Looking around frantically she felt her adrenalin level rise, making her pulse considerably faster by each passing second. She almost jumped out of her skin when she heard Madam Pince's strangely loud voice coming from the other side of the library, and she withdrew her hand immediately, as if she had got just burnt. There was nothing in the pocket she just examined except for a few empty vials, and for a moment she paused, unsure if she should go on with unzipping the second one.

But there was no going back now. If – Heavens forbid – Malfoy caught her, at least let her almost certain death not be in vain.

The witch went through the books in the rucksack hurriedly, noting quietly how disorganized Malfoy became over the summer. He used to be walking around with a black, leather briefcase until last year, and Hermione once saw the neat settings he always arranged his books in. If she didn't know better, she would dare to say this rucksack belonged to a rather untidy boy in his seventh year, who cared more about his final exams than the well-orderedness of his stuff.

All her thoughts left her mind when she felt her fingers curl around her prize. She quickly pulled the folded letter out of the bag and sunk it deep in the pocket of her robe, but the sound of something light falling to the ground stopped her plans of running away in that instant. There were two more letters lying on the cold tiles of the floor, having slipped out from the backpack along with the one Hermione grabbed.

And that was the moment she heard the footsteps.

They were slow-paced and way too sharp to belong to a boy, but the young witch was sure Madam Pince would not be thrilled by her actions is she saw her right now either. _'Which one was he just reading?'_ wondered Hermione upon the sight of the fallen letters, as besides the name of the recipient and the sender, nothing labeled the envelopes. The footsteps stopped, but the girl felt she was running out of time quickly, so in her hurry she made the only logical decision that she managed to come up with. She bent down and took all three of the letters.

She barely had the time to take a few steps away from the desk when Draco's voice broke the silence that engulfed the room.

"Sometimes I almost forget you _**live**_ here, Granger."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat when she heard the familiar tone the blond haired guy always greeted her with. Not having the time to wonder just how the hell he got behind her back, she carefully stuffed the two newly acquired letters to her pocket, hoping – no, _**begging**_ for the Powers that Be to make her slight movement as unnoticeable as possible. When she was finished with the task she fought down an utterly grateful sigh, and she turned sharply, facing the person who was a constant limelighter of her worst nightmares.

"Malfoy," she pushed the word out of her mouth with a great effort, gulping audibly upon seeing the unpleasant smirk on the lad's face. _'He didn't notice,'_ was all she could think of, but still, the unnerving way Malfoy eyed her was not helping to calm her racing heart down.

Said person glanced suspiciously over his rucksack, and Hermione felt the need to check if she had left it the way it was before. Draco reluctantly tore his gaze from the object, but the witch could already sense the rapidly closing catastrophe…

"I hope your filthy hands didn't touch my bag. I hear those mudblood bacteria are pretty hard to get rid of."

Hermione felt a surge of uncontrollable anger making its way to her chest, and the echoes of the word 'mudblood' soon effected in her vision to be clouded with red spots as she reached for her wand. She did not know what she intended to do with it; probably just threatening the bloke a bit, as it was written in their usual routine. Yet, before she could do as much as point it at Malfoy, her wand was already snatched from her hand by an invisible force, and it took her to see Draco's raised arm to realize that he was keeping it in the air with the levitation charm.

"You know Granger, these first grade spells never cease to amaze me," he stated simply as he was holding the wand above Hermione's head, lowering it to an almost reachable level just to tease her.

"Give it back, Malfoy!" she shouted angrily, but with the sudden awareness of the letters still present in her pocket she decided she couldn't very well start jumping to get her wand back – she had to admit that surviving the temporary loss of her magical object was a way more acceptable form of punishment for stealing, than the unimaginably horrid things the boy would do to her upon unveiling her deeds.

"Now!" she voiced her wish in a hopefully threatening tone, though she did not feel half as confident as she probably appeared to be.

"What is the magic word, Granger?" the silver haired teenager prompted Hermione, his unnerving smirk never leaving his face as he slowly closed the distance between them. The brunette felt the dreadful sensation growing in her stomach, but standing her ground she eyed her enemy with a determined expression, not letting him know that he was coming way too close for her liking. When they finally stood only inches apart, Draco decided to repeat his question in a nerve-racking slow pace, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What-is-the-magic-word?"

"Detention, Mr. Malfoy!" came the sharp voice of Madam Pince from behind Hermione's back.

The wizard's grin was brighter than Hermione ever had the chance to witness, and despite Madam Pince sending disapproving looks at the couple, Malfoy didn't bother to tear his gaze from the brunette's eyes. "Well, I suppose that works, too," he stated simply and let her wand fall to the ground. Unwillingly, he collected his bag and made his way to the exit escorted by the strict librarian, but before he left he turned back and addressed the young witch once more.

"For now…"


	2. You shall join Us!

Hermione couldn't believe what she had done. Has she gone completely crazy? Taking Malfoy's letters, just like that? That was theft, for Merlin's sake! She officially became a _**thief**_ because of Draco Malfoy. She was mental for sure, as there was no other explanation for her actions.

The girl was hugging her knees on her large four-poster bed, with three envelopes placed on the red blanket. Why did she take them? Malfoy will surely notice, and his first suspect will be of course, _**her**_. Damn, it was a stupid, stupid idea!

Yesterday she didn't have the opportunity to read any of the letters, since Lavender and Parvati would have asked too many questions about them, so she had no choice but to spend a long, dreamless night with the parchments secured deep inside her school bag. Her roommates only looked at her quizzically when Hermione announced how she would rather skip breakfast today, but they left her alone after a bit of talking round. Now, Hermione was hungry though, but at least she had the dorm room all to herself for the next hour or so, leaving her free to examine the awards she put so much at stake for yesterday.

'_Awards? More like heists!'_ she scolded herself for at least the hundredth time that morning. She was looking at the curvy letters that labeled Draco Malfoy as the recipient, but upon seeing that the sender had indeed been his father, the witch suddenly found the exchange to be too personal for her to meddle in. _'Yeah, because having second thoughts __**now**__indeed helps my case,'_ she snorted. She knew she would open them eventually – she was a curious person by nature, but her conscience was nonetheless busy loading her with guilt because of disrespecting someone's privacy so forwardly. She was sitting alone for long minutes now, still she just couldn't bring herself to open the envelopes yet. A very, very guilty part of her was waiting for Malfoy to thrust the door open and tear the parchments forcefully from her hands, shouting at her for being such a shameless filch…

But Malfoy of course never arrived, so pulling out the folded parchment from the first envelope, Hermione acknowledged her fate with trembling hands instead. _'I will definitely rot in Hell for this.'_

The two short lines inscribed on the parchment were dated back to June 5th, 1992.

_Happy Birthday, son._

_Lucius Malfoy_

"Whoa," she gaped from the surprise, "That was… intense."  
Malfoy's birthday was in June. That was already much more information about the guy than what Hermione gathered in all those years of attending the same school with him. But at the same time, that one simple sentence raised so many questions she couldn't even begin to count.

The Malfoy heir was spending his 12th birthday without his father. Where was Lucius? And why did he suddenly come across as a caring father when the head of the Malfoy family she knew was anything but the warm, loving type of a Dad?

Or… was he? She couldn't know. She only judged Lucius by what she saw of him, and even though it was not much, their encounters could never be described as delightful. Then again, she didn't think Draco Malfoy was the type to keep such little sentimental souvenirs as a birthday letter; especially not one from his father. But… would have he been really carrying around this memory for four long years if Lucius was not a good father to him? Probably not.

Hermione felt like she was sailing on forbidden waters when she decided to open the second envelope – and to be frank, she probably was. She felt like that birthday wish was so… simply put, too intimate for her to see. Then, of course she wasn't _**supposed**_ to see it in the first place, was she now…

The second parchment was dated back to last year, to the 27th of November, 1995.

_Draco._

_As much as your mother and I are still horrified by the fact that you have openly defied your family, I have to admit I adore your nerve. Looks like all those years of training have not been wasted, after all._

_Now, I understand this must be a rather difficult choice to make, but be warned, my patience will not last forever. The longer you hesitate, the more you are making your mother worry, and I cannot allow you to do that. She wishes for you to reconsider His offer. Also, we are expecting you to spend the winter holidays with us. _

_Please Draco, do not turn out to be a disappointment to your family._

_Lucius Malfoy_

Hermione held the parchment with a disgusted expression, re-reading it twice before her resentment turned into pity. Now, _**that **_was the Lucius Malfoy she pictured in her mind. Cold and distant, even to his only child. No wonder his son turned out to be the way he was. Malfoy was surely spoiled rotten as a kid, but apparently, parental love had not been present in his life recently…

The brunette shook her head to clear the regret that was building inside her towards the Slytherin boy. He was _**Malfoy**_, he did not deserve her pity, not for a second. It might have been sad to imagine anyone growing up with such a detached father, but Malfoy was… well, Malfoy. Whatever fate threw at him, he probably deserved it.

She run through the lines once more, and the sudden burst of questions made her head reel in pain.  
The guy had defied his family? In what way? Granted he was a rebellious prick, but Hermione never though his defiance would go as far as to defy his own family… And training? What training? What was that difficult choice he had to make? Who was _**He**_? And wait, wasn't Draco last year attending the ball with Pansy here at Hogwarts? Why did he reject to go home despite his father's wishes?

'… _do not turn out to be a disappointment to your family.'_

Well, Draco Malfoy _**did**_ have daddy issues after all.

Envelop number three dated to October 28, 1996 – as in to Monday, two days ago.

_I am not tolerating your behavior any longer, Draco. _

_You are meant to become one of Us. I was patient with you because you have my own blood running through your veins, but the times of your childish tantrums are over. The sole purpose of your existence from now on shall be fulfilling His wishes, whether it suits your appetite or not._

_It is painful for me to have to do this, but Draco, you have to understand that I cannot accept any traitors in our family at this point. Therefore, I demand you to put a halt to this madness – preferably before your mother begins to suffer from the consequences of your childish demeanor. _

_You were foolish to set foot on that train two months ago. I thought I raised you to know better than believing that Hogwarts could provide you any real shelter from Him, but mark my words, Draco, as I am forming them merely for your own benefit:_

_You cannot run forever, son._

_I am expecting you to take the last train back to London on Friday. If you do not show up, I will take it you are forcing me to make your poor mother responsible for your choices. I may not bear His powers, but I believe you remember the effect of my charms – hopefully rather vividly. _

_Do not disappoint her, Draco._

_Lucius Malfoy_

Hermione watched in pure horror as the parchment slowly slipped from her frozen hands and fell back on top of the other letters. She felt all of her energy leaving her body at once, and closed her eyes painfully, begging for no mental images to dance on the back of her eyelids. When the shivers that shot through her body died down she finally opened her dark brown eyes, but did not reach for the fallen letter.

She didn't need to re-read _**this **_one to know what it was all about.

…

Draco was pacing up and down the Prefects' bathroom for more than half an hour now. The Great Hall was filled with students peacefully consuming their breakfasts, but the boy was rather skipping the first meal of the day than facing the reason of his current anxiety.

Granger.

The muggle-born witch has earned many degrading adjectives in Draco's dictionary during the time they've known each other, but theft? Seriously? Draco never imagined her to go so far just to annoy him. How dare she steal something that belonged to him? How dare she steal from a _**Malfoy**_?

Even though it was not a pleasant admission, but said Malfoy knew it was his own fault for letting this happen. _**He**_ left his bag sitting on the floor while he went out of sight, and he was the one who practically served the opportunity on a silver plate. Granger simply took it.

It was a brave move, he had to admit. Stupid, but brave. He never thought of the mudblood as someone who would have the guts to break the rules so boldly. She has always been the know-it-all, the teachers' favorite, the prefect who kept things at bay, but never the one to break those rules she held so dear in front of everyone else. "Hypocritical bitch," he hissed through gritted teeth before he made his way to one of the sinks and splashed some cold water in his face.

He had to get those letters back. He couldn't be sure what Granger understood from them, but due to Lucius' steadily rising anger the last parchment's content turned out to be pretty obvious even to an outsider, Draco believed. Not that he cared that much actually. If Lucius was stupid enough to leave so many clues in a letter then it was only fair to let him take the responsibility, wasn't it?

No, it wasn't. Draco didn't care about what Granger and her friends gathered, but he couldn't just let those letters reach Dumbledore. The headmaster would surely try and stop him from going home, and though he was just a ludicrous old fool, his power was not something to be overlooked. If he didn't want Draco to leave the school, then he would find his way to make him stay.

And the boy couldn't stay, not after that last letter Lucius sent him. The head of the Malfoy family might have been known as a heartless person to most, but Draco knew that if he ever loved anyone, it was his wife. He lost his temper easily, yes, but despite his threats he would never hurt Narcissa. It was not Lucius Draco believed to be a real threat to her…

He was pushing his father's patience to the very limits since he asked him to join the Death Eaters, but it still took Lucius almost a whole year to snap. He announced his intention of making his son one of _Them_ during the last school year, and Draco was surprised he didn't get killed upon saying no. Hell, he didn't even know _**why**_ he said no. It wasn't like he could postpone become Voldemort's puppet for long, but he had to try to open his father's eyes to the wrongness of his parent's decision. Or more like, to Lucius' decision.

No matter how hard Lucius tried to convince Narcissa that serving the Dark Lord was the right thing, she did not agree because she shared his opinion. She became a Death Eater for the sake of her family, and she wanted Draco to join them because she knew that this was probably the only means of their survival. The day of the final battle between the two forces was nearing, and the followers of Voldemort were the only people on the winning side.

Draco knew that. Neither Harry nor Dumbledore was any match for the Dark Lord, the amount of the power he held was just too great to overcome. The opposing forces would be defeated without a doubt, the young Malfoy had no illusions about that. But still, serving Voldemort wet against everything his father ever taught him, went against everything he held dear.  
A Malfoy was no servant! Lucius was stupid for not running away while they still had the chance, and that made Draco downright furious. The man, who always posed as a symbol of power and might suddenly became a weak, pathetic loser who was unable to take care of his own family. He rather joined an army only to fight someone else's battle, and he made his choices out of fear rather than will. Draco despised that kind of behavior greatly.

Being in Slytherin taught him to be brave, but it also taught him to back away from a hopeless fight. Dropping his pride and running was hard, especially as a Malfoy, but really, Lucius was acting simply irresponsibly. Why couldn't he take his wife and son, and find shelter for the time being – preferably somewhere far away from Voldemort? Draco didn't believe the Dark Lord's promises about keeping his precious Death Eaters safe for a moment. He might need them for a while, but why would he keep them around after successfully executing his plans? And why, for Merlin's sake, didn't Lucius see through his lies?

The blond haired guy slammed his fist into the wall that held the sinks and the mirrors. A fifth grader Hufflepuff prefect froze upon the sight that greeted him when he entered the bathroom, and when Draco turned hastily towards his direction he decided to back away and leave quickly before those silver eyes started to shoot daggers for real. Malfoy took an angry step towards the short corridor that led to the entrance, but before he left he turned towards his reflection in one of the mirrors and voiced his decision aloud.

"I'll get those letters back."

…

_Okay, I'm not sure if it's worth continuing, so please, please let me know what you think. :D Thank you for reading!_


	3. The beauty of her fright

It was a rainy Friday afternoon and Hermione was still sitting in a classroom with a few other students, even though her last class has already ended. The Prefects' meeting has been going on for more than forty minutes now, and most of the participants were bored out of their minds right from the first minute. Most of them, of course, did not include Hermione Granger.

Ron was forced to spend the day in the hospital wing after taking a rough fall and acquiring an injury on his wrist at Quidditch practice yesterday, but at least this way Hermione could focus her attention to the currently speaking Head Boy. Or, at least she tried to focus on the Head Boy…

'_Right, as if I could pay attention to anyone else besides __**him**__,'_ she thought as she shot yet another glance at the center of her irritation.

Malfoy was sitting two desks away from her, and even though it was pretty obvious she was staring at him, the brunette just couldn't help but feel alarmed even with a bunch of people surrounding them. The fair haired guy didn't act any differently since their encounter in the library almost three days ago, yet Hermione felt nervous around him, as if she was waiting for to be caught red-handed.

She couldn't bring herself to tell anyone about the letters, not even Harry or Ron. They would just scold her for being so stupid and irresponsible, and maybe they would even try to talk her into returning them to Malfoy – knowing well that his reaction would be a lot worse if he found out about it by himself. Or if not, then they would constantly be on her heels, anxiously waiting for the unavoidable confrontation with the pure-blood. She didn't think she could do with either of the options really. Plus, what would she say about the content of the letters? She couldn't very well just blurt that Malfoy would most likely be forced to become a bloody Death Eater by his father if he left for the weekend… She couldn't even know for sure if that was the case, after all.

'_Yeah, find some other explanation for those letters then.'_

It's been rumored that the Malfoy family had some kind of bond with the Dark Lord, and Hermione didn't put becoming an actual Death Eater past either Lucius or Draco, but there was a certain difference between a hypothesis and knowledge. A huge difference, now she realized.

When she read the last parchment out of the three, the witch felt terrified for long hours just by the thought of what the older Malfoy was asking from his son. And the way he threatened to hurt his mother… what kind of relationships did they have in that family, for Merlin's sake? She couldn't imagine what she'd do if she'd been forced into Draco's position. She didn't know what to do with this newly acquired information either. She felt like she should tell someone about it, to tell Harry and Ron, to tell the teachers, to tell Dumbledore, to tell _**everybody**_… but at the same time she felt like she violated his privacy enough as it was, there was no need to let the whole world know about his issues with his family.

'_But these issues involve so much more than just his family…'_ she reasoned against her own initial thoughts. What was the right thing to do? Should she just keep quiet and let him go home after the prefects' meeting? Wouldn't that be like… letting him to be served to the Dark Lord's will? What would happen to him if he went home? And what would happen to his mother if he didn't?

How the hell did such an important decision become _**her**_ responsibility all of a sudden?

She caught yet another glance at the silver haired wizard. He was wearing a bored to death expression while watching as the raindrops slowly trailed down the large window. He didn't appear to be nervous about having to go home today, and Hermione wondered if he decided to go against his father's wish once again.

In the last two days she only ever saw him in the Great Hall during their meals, but Malfoy did not pay any attention to her. He did not pay any attention to anyone, actually. She even notices that Pansy stopped following him around, and the fact that she was not sharing a desk with him right now told her that something must have happened between those two that made their relationship falter. Well, not that Hermione knew what kind of relationship they shared, but she had her guesses.

Obviously Malfoy didn't know that she took his letters – he would have attacked her already otherwise – yet, that did not make the brunette any calmer when she was forced to endure his presence at such a close proximity. She saw him running his hand through his hair, making it pretty ruffled, and lay down his head in his hand in the same way she remembered him doing in the library just a few days ago. He was an unpleasant and cruel person, yes. But still, the exhaustion that radiated from his posture at that moment…

No, Draco Malfoy did not live up to the image Hermione made up in her mind about Death Eaters. Nobody deserved to be put into such a place, not even him.

She would tell Dumbledore.

Just when she caught herself staring at the lad for a bit too long, the Head Girl announced the end of their meeting, and Hermione realized slightly too late that everyone else was already packing their things up, except her. She was the last who stood up from their chair, and by the time she collected her bag everyone else had already left the classroom… everyone, except Malfoy.

Hermione's blood froze in her veins when she watched him turning towards her, but much to her relief the boy quickly turned on his heels and made his way to the door as well. The witch closed her eyes and exhaled, only for her eyes to snap open upon hearing that the door had been slammed furiously.

She barely had time to think, let alone move, when she found herself pinned against the nearest wall. All air left her lungs for the moment when her back connected with the hard stone, and her hands unconsciously reached for the hand that was tightened around her neck. Her heart jumped to her throat instantly, and after she fought her way through the rapidly rising panic that fogged her mind, Hermione realized she was facing a very, very vivid pair of ash grey eyes that were studying her intently. After a long minute of testing her breath she finally noted that despite Malfoy's fingers being curved around the soft skin that covered her throat, he did not try to choke her.

"You have something that belongs to me, witch," he stated in the calmest voice he could master, knowing well it would only intensify the terror in those dark brown orbs he was currently eyeing. The results of his speech did not disappoint the boy.

The shock made Hermione forget about her wand completely, and instead of coming up with an answer she was only holding into Malfoy's arm that held her in place with all her might. She felt that the nails of the hand that encircled her throat were starting to dig deeper and deeper into her skin, only to ease their assault just before the moment her airways were completely blocked. Her pupils dilated from the sudden fright, and Draco watched her struggle against his hold with a satisfied grin plastered over his face.

"Having second thoughts about theft now, aren't we, Granger?" he asked as he grabbed one of the girl's wrists and pinned it to the wall next to her face, which made her attempts of getting away die down for the time being. Her right hand was still trying to get rid of Draco's hand that held her by the neck, but the wizard didn't seem to mind when her fingernails bit painfully into his skin. Nothing could clear the content smile from his features; the triumph he was feeling did not allow for his mood to be ruined so easily.

"What made you think you could get away with stealing my personal belongings? I thought you were brighter than doing something so reckless," he spoke only inches away from her face, making her shudder even more. As he lowered his head he felt Granger's breath on his cheek, her gulp under his palm, and a strange thought started to form in the back of Draco's head…

What would his father say if he knew that his son got as close to a mudblood as to feel the warmth of her breath?

"I-I don't know what you're talking—"

"Finding your voice will not help you if you only use it to utter lies."

If Hermione's expression showed her inner turmoil about telling the truth or not before, it was showing a whole new level of dread now. _'Brilliant,'_ thought Malfoy as he admired the effect of his actions that settled on the witch's features.

She closed her eyes in her panic, and Draco could tell she was desperately thinking about a way to escape his grasp. Her body was shaking uncontrollably since the moment he touched her and she parted her lips slightly, almost as if the air that made its way to her lungs through her nose was not sufficient for her to think straight. The young Malfoy realized he was staring at her lips with a rather odd feeling in his gut…

How would Lucius react if he knew he touched a lowly muggle-born witch, who was inferior to their existence? What would he do if his only son got his hands dirtied by the likes of Hermione Granger? What would he say if he knew that Draco _**kissed**_ a mudblood willingly?

Malfoy imagined what Lucius' expression would be like upon such a revelation. He would see red from the anger, that's for sure. He'd go mad merely from the thought, and Draco imagined he would even disinherit him from the family – if not trying to snap his neck on the spot.

'_Such happy thoughts,'_ he mused as his smirk widened over the metal image of an angered-to-death Lucius. My, _**that**_ would be fun to watch.

Granger's voice broke the silence, who apparently decided that the easiest way to get out from her situation was to go with the truth.

"They are in my bag," she stated simply with a trembling voice, knowing well that the consequences of her actions finally caught up with her, leaving her cornered. "I… I'm sorry… I shouldn't… h-have…" she went on uncertainly, though Malfoy could tell it was not a genuine apology. It was a request for his forgiveness merely out of fear.

"Do you really think an apology will cut it, Granger?"

Hermione's eyes opened slowly, and when Draco noticed the tears that started to gather in those shiny orbs, he was taken aback from the realization that hit him right in the chest.

He _**enjoyed**_ this. He _**liked **_tormenting others. He adored the reactions his menacing behavior evoked from those who were blessed with a weaker will than him. He never found any joy in inflicting physical pain, but he never despised the thought of hurting someone _**mentally**_.

'_You are meant to become one of Us,' _he recalled the words Lucius used in his last letter to convince him to go home. Seems like his father had been right, after all. Draco _**was**_ the perfect material to be formed into a Death Eater, no matter how hard he tried to deny it up until now.

Damn it, he just _**hated**_ when Lucius was right…

"That would be fun indeed," he voiced quietly as his smile reformed upon the thought of using Granger to make his father angry. "Maybe another time," he added and released the now completely confused witch, and made his way to her bag that secured his letters. After collecting them he turned back once more before leaving the classroom, sending a grin to the still utterly petrified girl. After letting his gaze wander on her body for a moment he decided that having his way with her could really mean some fun indeed... But not right now.

Right now, Draco needed to go home.

...

_Still not sure if it's any good, but I have the inspiration to go on with it anyway. :) So, tell me what you think..._

_Thank you for reading, and thank you for the review, vampire-fetish15 ;) Glad you're enjoying this story._


	4. How can you keep smiling?

Hermione never hated Mondays up until now, and as usual, this feeling of hate was somehow related to Draco Malfoy. Only, this time it was related to him in a way the brunette never imagined possible.

Hermione hated Malfoy's _**absence**_.

"Stop it Hermione," Harry addressed her when he caught the remorseful glances the girl sent towards the Slytherin table. "There was nothing you could have done to stop him."

"I could have told Dumbledore," she replied and resumed her indifferent play with the food with her fork.

That was true, Harry had to admit, but he knew that voicing his opinion wouldn't ease his friend's guilt one bit. Her conscience was eating her mind up for the last two days, and neither Ron, nor Harry managed to find anything so far that would make her forget about Malfoy, no matter how hard they tried.

"Come on Hermione, it was his own decision," tried to reason the Weasley, but the witch made no attempt to look any more cheerful. "It's not like he wouldn't become one sooner or later. We're talking about _**Malfoy**_, after all."

She told her two best friends about the letters right after Draco assaulted her in the classroom on Friday. She neglected to share a few details, such as how that bruise formed on her neck, or what exactly happened in that classroom, but she gave them a pretty detailed description of the contents of the last parchment. She did not mention the other two, still feeling guilty about meddling in Malfoy's private matters.

"That letter doesn't prove anything anyway," went on Ron, wishing Hermione's saddened expression would disappear. "You said yourself that no Death Eaters were mentioned in it specifically," he said, lowering his voice at the last part so the other students could not hear him. "Lucius might have meant something else."

"Like what? Joining the private _Malfoy Golf Club_?" Hermione retorted and Harry took a deep breath, knowing well she was beyond reason. They have been over and over this topic for the last two days countless times, and they did not manage to change her demeanor one bit.

The letter was about Voldemort and the Death Eaters of course; even Ron gathered that much from Hermione's narration. Lucius Malfoy's position as a Death Eater has been an open secret for some time now. Nobody dared to directly ask Draco about his father's relations to the Dark Lord, but then again, nobody felt the need to pop such questions. As a matter of fact, Ron was even surprised that Dumbledore let Draco back to Hogwarts for this school year. The reputation of his family quickly turned into rumors indicating that even the Malfoy heir was put in Voldemort's service, and even though Ron didn't question the headmaster's judgment, he didn't put any more trust into Draco than before either. His oddly passive behavior towards them since they entered the school was suspicious enough as it was…

"You should eat up, Hermione. Morning classes are about to start," Harry reminded the witch, but she only pushed her plate away in disgust, and Ron noted she barely touched her breakfast. Both he and Harry cursed Malfoy's name inwardly. How did that prick manage to make their friend feel down even without being present? It's not like it was her fault that he got himself into the situations he was in.

"I hate transfiguration," Ron mumbled under his nose as the trio neared to the classroom and took their usual seats among the rest of the students. He noticed Hermione's eyes wander to the empty seat of Malfoy. Why did she even have to take his issues to her heart? It was Malfoy, damn it. He didn't deserve her sympathy, no matter how righteous the witch was.

Hermione did not pick up the concerned looks her friends sent her. She was too busy thinking about the same things that occupied her mind the whole weekend. What happened to Malfoy? Was he being forced to become a Death Eater for real? Would they ever saw him again? And most importantly, was it _**her**_ fault if the boy really went down on the dark path that his father and Voldemort had prepared for him?

Of course it was her fault. She had two whole days to take those letters to the headmaster, but her cowardice did not let her act upon her instincts. Malfoy and his mother could be dead by now for all she knew, and all the blame would fall on her. Enemy or not, she made a terrible mistake by letting him leave the school on that fateful day, and she felt utterly disgusted by her own ignorance.

Professor McGonagall stepped into the classroom with a gloomy figure following her trail, though she did not seem to notice the student that slipped through the door just after she made her entrance. She walked up to the teacher's desk without looking back, and greeted the students in her usual tone. Hermione was still looking at Malfoy's desk when the newcomer occupied his seat without hesitation, and it took the brunette a minute to realize that the student who just fell onto the chair of Draco Malfoy was no one else but… Draco Malfoy.

She gaped and quickly turned her head to look at Harry and Ron, who were also staring at the bloke with a dumbfound expression. They quickly exchanged shell-shocked glances upon Malfoy's unexpected arrival, but the teacher had instructed them to be silent and started the lesson before they could discuss what was on their minds.

'_But… how?'_ was the only coherent thought that came to Hermione's reeling mind. Wasn't the guy supposed to be home? Did he become a Death Eater? Surely, she could only see his back, but she did not notice any significant changes in his appearance. Well, not that she knew of any distinctive marks that could help her identify a Death Eater if she saw one…

Malfoy was not acting any different than from what he produced before he left. His hair was more ruffled than usual, and the neck of his shirt also peeked out from under his coat, signaling that he must have been in a rush before he arrived to the lesson. But when did he even come back? And why was his left hand clutching the material of his coat so fiercely?

The rest of the lesson went by relatively fast, and it ended before Hermione could find an answer to any of her questions. Hermione, Ron and Harry were quick to collect themselves after the professor left, and they were the first to leave the classroom, watching as the other students lazily packed their notes in their bags.

"Do you think he is…" Ron started off while they were staring at the silver haired boy intently, but trailed off before he could utter his concerns about Malfoy being a Death Eater. It wouldn't be good if any of the slowly wandering students heard their conversation. "…You know," he half-whispered to his friends, "Do you think he became… one of _**them**_?"

Neither Harry nor Hermione held an answer to his question, so Ron settled on joining them in watching as Malfoy rose from his chair, but the fact that he needed to support himself with both arms on the desk did not escape the onlookers.

"We have to tell Dumbledore," stated Harry as Draco slowly bent down to fetch his rucksack, and he put an arm around his stomach protectively after he straightened his back again.

'_He's injured,'_ panicked Hermione upon the sight, not paying attention to Ron, who shook his head showing that he agreed to Harry's suggestion. All she could focus on was the slightly pained expression on the boy's face, who just started off towards the door with awfully slow steps. Malfoy was obviously hurt.

Any other day Hermione wouldn't care about his health, but this time was different. This time it was _**her**_ fault that he got somehow injured. She was a good witch, and her conscience did not allow such things just to slip her mind.

"Ah, Potter and his cheerleaders. What a touching sight," greeted them Malfoy with his usual unpleasant smirk that become his trademark over the years. "I take it Miss Granger here couldn't keep quiet and spilled the reasons of my recent… absence," he went on in a calm voice, but Harry could tell he had difficulties to keep his voice even. His breathing was a bit ragged despite his efforts, and small drips of sweat were forming on his forehead gradually.

"What have you done, Malfoy?" asked Harry accusingly in a dangerously low voice, while Hermione cautiously took a step backwards when the addressed boy's cold grey eyes settled on her.

"So you had not told them all the details yet, then?" Draco's smirk broadened upon seeing the brunette shudder. "And here I thought mudbloods made good spies, if nothing else."

"Stop right there, Malfoy!" raised his voice Harry when the fair haired boy made a step towards Hermione, and both him and Ron pointed their wands in the direction of Draco as they took a protective stance in front of the girl. Malfoy could have very well been a Death Eater now, and though he hasn't made any threatening moves yet, it still was better to be safe than sorry, right?

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Potter," Draco chuckled on his enemies' defensive manner, but he couldn't hide the surge of pain that shot through his body upon his own action, and much to his surprise, he saw Hermione raising her eyebrow in concern. He didn't have time to dwell on her expression though, as his vision became blurrier and blurrier by each passing second. He had to get away before the last remains of his strength disappeared, so he took another lazy step forward, wishing to leave the trio behind as soon as possible. The two teenagers though only hardened their expressions, and continued to eye him guardedly. "Come on, it's not like it would be any use of… of making… making—"

Before Draco could finish his sentence, Harry and Ron had to realize that they were pointing their wands on a still body that fell on the ground a mere second ago. Hermione's heart started to race again when she saw Malfoy faint – her guilt about letting this happen to him surfaced quicker than she thought it would. Not having a clue of what happened Harry slowly lowered his wand, and turned to Ron questioningly.

"It wasn't me," the Weasley instantly held up his hands in his defense, showing that whatever knocked the bloke unconscious, was not related to him in any way. Both Ron and Hermione were looking at Harry now, as if it was his turn to be accused.

"Well, it was not me either."

All the three looked over to the unmoving body that lay peacefully on the cold stone floor. Ron furrowed his eyebrows, signing that he was contemplating something heavily.

"Okay," he said finally when he came to a decision, "let's just say he fell and die—"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded him immediately. "He's not dead!" she stated confidently, though she had to close a bit of a distance between herself and Malfoy to make sure Ron was wrong.

"Well, he doesn't look very lively from this angle, either," retorted Ron without missing a beat while Hermione studied the seemingly lifeless boy.

'_He's breathing,'_ the witch diagnosed with a wave of relief washing through her. His breathing was shallow, but Draco was alive nonetheless.

"Umm…" mumbled Ron uncertainly, but Hermione decrypted the look on his face without the need of further words.

"You cannot be serious!" she shouted at him all of a sudden upon detecting the ginger haired guy's intentions. "We can't just leave him here!" she gaped at him incredulously.

"Why not?" Ron asked with an utterly puzzled expression.

Hermione threw her hands in the air exasperatedly, not believing how someone could walk away from an unconscious person with such an innocent mien. Resigning to Ron's obvious dislike towards the Slytherin boy she turned to Harry for support, knowing well that it would be a great deal easier to reason with him.

"I…" Harry began, torn between her friends' wills. "I'd be fine with calling a teacher," he finally uttered, trying to find the middle course. The brunette, however, was not in the mood to convince him with logical reasoning.

"We have to take him to Madam Pomfrey."

"I'm sooo not dragging him all the way to the hospital wing," snapped Ron, but Harry could already tell there was no way to convince Hermione to let them leave Malfoy there. Truth to be told, he wouldn't be content with himself if they let Draco there either, no matter how much he resented the guy.

Despite his prior attitude it didn't take much to get Ron rethink his options. A single glance at Hermione's face was more than enough to make all of his previously built up confidence dissolve at once.

"What I meant was… I'd be _**thrilled**_ to take him to Madam Pomfrey."

…

After Harry and Ron - escorted by Hermione of course – took Malfoy to the hospital wing and left him in the care of Madam Pomfrey, they set out to talk to the headmaster. Hermione told him about Lucius's letter in the same detailed manner she told her friends previously, and after hearing her out Dumbledore thanked her for the information and assured them that he would take care of Draco's situation.

The afternoon classes passed by relatively uneventfully – Hermione, Harry and Ron attended their lessons without further disturbances, discussing the happenings of the morning during the short passing periods between classes. They could not come to a conclusion regarding Malfoy though, and Ron fretfully noted that Hermione's guilty face didn't disappear for a moment.

The three Gryffindors entered the Great Hall in hope of sharing their dinner without incidents – this day was draining enough as it was already, there was no need for any more unexpected events.

"Hermione, Harry!" they heard Ginny's voice as the girl run up to them the moment she spotted the trio.

"Well, hello to you too, little sister," greeted her Ron sarcastically, feigning offense upon being ignored. Ginny however, did not seem to mind her brother's need of attention.

"Have you heard about Malfoy? It's been all over the Evening Prophet," she exclaimed hurriedly before they could reach their table.

Harry looked at the young girl, startled. Malfoy in the Daily Prophet? Surely, the media couldn't be so crazy about pure-blood families that something as irrelevant as a faint would get into the papers, right? No, that would be ridiculous.

Harry just decided to ask Ron's sister about the article when he noticed that Hermione was already staring at a printed copy of the front page. Before he or Ron could join her, she tossed the paper on the table, turned on her heels and run through the crowd of the students that were gathering in the hall to have their dinner.

"Hermione! Wait, where are you—"

Harry was cut by Ron's gentle tapping on his shoulder, and when he saw his friend's widening eyes upon reading the headline, the Boy Who Lived decided to take a look at the newspaper as well before going after Hermione.

'_**The mysterious death of Narcissa Malfoy**__. The Ministry of Magic has sent…'_

There was no need to read further for Harry to know where Hermione took off.

She was running through the relatively empty corridors of the huge castle as the tears were slowly gathering in her brown eyes.

His mother was dead. All thanks to her.

'_What have you done, Hermione? What have you done?' _

She wanted to see him. No, she _**had**_ to see him. She didn't know what she'd tell him once she got to the hospital wing, but she just felt she had to check on his state. What on Earth happened while he was home? How badly was he injured? What happened to Narcissa? Did he even know she was dead? Dear Merlin, what if he didn't? She was not the right person to tell him. She was too weak for being put into such a role. Gosh, her life was so much simpler just a few days ago. Compared to her current self, the Hermione Granger from a week ago would have had the confidence to take on the Dark Lord alone if needed, and what was she doing now? Crying over someone whom any other time she would describe as her arch enemy. Hermione was crying over Draco Malfoy.

'_It's all my fault, it's all my fault, it's all my fault, it's all my…' _ she repeated the same sentence in her head over and over again before she arrived to her destination. Then, when she finally did, she stopped in front of the large door, losing all her strength at once. All thoughts left her mind when the door slowly opened, and to her surprise, the headmaster stepped through the entrance.

"Ah, Ms. Granger," he smiled at her warmly, "I thought you would drop by for a visit," he added in a strangely understanding tone.

Hermione blinked a few times to clear her mind, but she still found herself unable to utter a single rational sentence. Dumbledore looked down at her with a sympathetic look, and decided to voice the answer to the question that her conscience was screaming at her since the day she let Malfoy leave Hogwarts.

"He will be fine, but it would be better if you'd let him rest for the time being. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey would not be very pleased if he had any visitors before he got a good night's sleep," he said kindly.

"Does he know?" having her voice found Hermione asked finally, and by the expression of the headmaster she knew there was no need to explain what she meant.

"Yes, I'm afraid he does," Dumbledore uttered in a soft voice, wishing he could take away the dismay that settled in the young girl's eyes. "But Mr. Malfoy is a strong person, Ms. Granger. I am sure he will be able to get over his loss in due time."

Hermione felt like she had been hit right in the stomach. She felt sick just by the thought of Narcissa Malfoy's death. Despite standing right in front of her she did not even notice when Dumbledore left, her mind only realized his absence when the new scene started to register in her mind.

Malfoy was lying on one of the hospital beds, and from his stillness and expression Hermione could tell he was asleep. The remains of a very deep looking gash covered his torso on the right side of his ribs, going all the way to the center of his stomach. His skin appeared to be smooth, probably from the treatment of Madam Pomfrey, but the redness formed a shape that looked like as if something tried to tear or bite a part out of his skin. It was a terrifying sight, and Madam Pomfrey closed the door of the room in front of her just before Hermione was hit by a strong wave of nausea.

What had Lucius Malfoy done to his son?

…

_So, here it is. Not very canon, I know, but it's needed to get Draco and Hermione together. The next chapter will contain some lemon, be warned... :D_

_vampire-fetish15: Thanks for reviewing again, I will try to write longer chapters in the future. ;)_

_Everybody, enjoy reading, reviews are always welcome! :)_


	5. The first of many

Draco had spent a whole week in the hospital wing. There were a dozen people who felt the need to drop by for a visit during that time – though most of them felt it was a moral obligation of a sort rather than care. However, the news of Narcissa's death spread quickly among the students, and most of the people from that mentioned dozen decided it would not be the brightest idea to disturb Malfoy's peace at the moment.

Crabbe and Goyle were obviously too spineless to face him in his current mood, and even Pansy got discouraged from pampering him after she heard about Blaise's visit.

Yes, Blaise Zabini was the only person who mastered up the courage to confront the boy who just lost his mother, but despite his telling, the meeting of the two Slytherins was not heated with Draco's wrath at all. The young Malfoy was rather quiet as they exchanged a few polite words; Blaise added the touch of 'his anger and lashing out' to his story on Draco's own request.

The silver haired boy had a certain reputation among the Slytherins, and he knew well that deceiving the public at large with a hint of his ill-temperedness being worse at the moment would probably keep any unwanted visitors away. He was right, of course. No students dared to enter the hospital wing willingly during the week he was forced to stay there except Zabini, and even though Draco didn't have anything against his company, he was in no mood to make small talks with anyone else.

Dumbledore didn't pester him much – popping a few questions about his injury apparently satisfied the old man, although Malfoy had the feeling he only skipped the rest of his interrogation out of the pity he felt because of his mother.

His mother…

"_**You're not planning on attending her funeral, I suppose?" **_he remembered Snape asking during his visit with Professor McGonagall. He could not speak in private with Severus since he returned to Hogwarts, but he bet the teacher already knew more about the recent happenings in the Malfoy Manor than anyone else.

Much to Draco's surprise, no one else bothered him with the topic. He imagined they gathered enough information from the news already, and though he had no idea what the media published about his family, he was fairly sure it didn't even begin to cover the truth.

It was all Lucius' fault. Voldemort might have been the one who casted the deadly spell over his mother, and he might have been the one who injured Draco with a charm he never even heard of before... But it was Lucius' fault. He wanted to believe so badly that it was Lucius' fault.

Yet, the memories of that fateful night were replaying on the back of his eyelids whenever he let them cover his orbs…

_The head of the Malfoy family was waiting for him on the platform when he arrived to King's Cross Station around midnight. After a cold greeting he informed Draco that that they had a new resident in their home, and the boy instantly realized the reason behind his father's urgency that radiated from his last letter. Voldemort occupied their house, thus exposing his mother to a whole new level of danger on a daily basis. Lucius was right; Draco would have been risking his mother's life if he didn't come home this weekend._

_The father and son didn't exchange another word until they arrived to the Malfoy Manor, where they were greeted by the Dark Lord himself, who contently surrounded himself with a few of his Death Eaters. Draco snorted when he saw the dark figure raising his arms, forcing a supposedly warm and welcoming expression on his ugly face._

"_Finally! Welcome home, Draco."_

_The next day went by uneventfully – that, if Draco's pointless attempts to persuade his father about changing his mind did not count. Lucius was relentless; Voldemort apparently succeeded in brainwashing him completely, and he wouldn't consider the option of walking away from the nearing battle – not even his wife's begging did any good._

_Narcissa had made it clear she was ready to take off if Lucius agreed, but she couldn't very well just take her son and leave her husband behind. And of course, Lucius did not break, not even after long hours of arguing and whisper-shouting, all the while carefully avoiding to be overheard by the Dark Lord._

"_Why won't you see it?" tried to reason the Malfoy heir once again, though he knew his father's plans wouldn't change regardless of what he or Narcissa had to say. "He is just using you! He will take over the wizarding world, and then he will kill us all!"_

"_I'm sorry to say this, but you are delusional, Draco. He gave us his word to—"_

"_His word? You're choosing __**his word **__over our __**safety**__?"_

"_Your __safety is exactly what I am fighting for! Yours and your mothers."_

"_I will __**not**__ become a Death Eater, Lucius."_

"_Well, I'm afraid that is not up to you to decide now."_

_Sunday was nowhere near as peaceful for the Malfoy family as the previous days were. They were sharing a fancy lunch with Lord Voldemort, who, for some ridiculous reason insisted on acting like as if they were a big happy family. Draco felt sick to his stomach when he announced that they were celebrating __**him**__, who finally decided to join his oh-so-precious army._

_Then, he was told about his role in details. He was supposed to kill the headmaster of Hogwarts. Draco saw the surprise on his father's face, who obviously wasn't let into Voldemort's plans up until then either. He shot a warning look to his father, but Lucius' face practically commanded him to stay quiet and accept his mission. _

_Sadly, Draco was having none of it. If his father was too much of a coward to speak up, then he would._

"_No."_

_And with that simple sentence, all hell broke loose._

_Narcissa aimed her wand at the Dark Lord just a second after Draco was hit by Voldemort's charm, but by the time he crashed into the wall from the impact his mother was already lying on the ground, lifelessly. _

_Lucius was only staring at the scene impassively._

"_Let her death be a deterrent to those who question their faith in the utopia we are building," Voldemort spoke up before leaving the Malfoys behind. "I hope that such a great loss will be enough to finally make you see the light, Draco."_

The rest of the day was a blur for the teenager really. He didn't remember how long had he been standing over the corpse of his mother, or if he even had the strength to cry at all. He didn't remember how he got back to the train station, or how he managed to survive the night back in the Slytherin house without anyone noticing his wound.

The only thing Draco remembered was that Lucius didn't try to stop him from coming back, and that was enough for the boy to see that his father had finally admitted he was wrong. Only, his admission came a lifetime too late, literally.

Lucius Malfoy had made the most fatal mistake in his life, and it cost him too much of a price for Draco to forgive his ignorance.

No, the youngest Malfoy wouldn't be able to forgive his father this time. Not now, and perhaps not ever.

…

Hermione turned back and pointed her wand to the door after entering the Prefects' bathroom, murmuring a short spell that turned over the sign saying the pool was being used.

She has never been really interested in this room; being able to use it was just another privilege that came with the position of a prefect. All those bubbles and the colored water – it was just too fancy for her liking. She'd never thought there would be a day when she would use the large bathtub in hope of finding her peace of mind.

The castle was relatively empty due to the on-going Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, but despite knowing that nobody would enter the bathroom if they saw the sign, she still decided to wear her swimsuit. She carefully placed her clothes and her towel next to the pool before turning on the water, and she watched in awe as the taps released soap bubbles and foam besides the multi-colored water. Never in a million years she would have thought that something so simple could have a calming effect on her nerves, but it was nice to let the warm water surround her body.

These last two weeks took their toll on the witch, and the symptoms of sleep-deprivation were beginning to show on her face. More and more often she saw her reflection in the mirror with bloodshot eyes, and the clothes that once hugged her form perfectly now hung from her shoulders because of her slight weight loss. She didn't eat less intentionally of course; going on a diet just wasn't something she imagined she would ever do. She just… lost her appetite, it was that simple.

Okay, maybe it also had something to do with a certain someone whose presence she just couldn't ignore whenever she entered the Great Hall for a meal.

Draco Malfoy did not acknowledge her once, not since he left the hospital wing a week ago. But then again, he didn't particularly acknowledge anyone around him, so it wasn't really that surprising. The only times Hermione saw him were those few classes they shared, and lunchtimes. She noticed he deliberately skipped breakfast and dinner, but thankfully he didn't appear to be skinnier than before. She just wasn't sure if her conscience could take that after all that happened.

Narcissa Malfoy's death was a well-known fact among the students, but Hermione had to admit that if she didn't know about it, Draco's behavior certainly wouldn't give it away. He was quiet and ignorant towards everyone, but at the same time he always wore an expression that suggested below the surface he was livid. He looked like he was ready to explode whenever someone did just as much as talk to him, and after a few warning glances even the Slytherins learnt that he was better be left alone for the time being.

He was acting more irritable than usual, but that was it. He didn't try to kill anyone in his wrath, and Hermione guessed that alone was more than his schoolmates could ask for.

'_Well, bottling up your feelings is one way to deal with your mother's death, isn't it?'_ she thought bitterly, though she couldn't really imagine what Draco must have felt like. She couldn't imagine how she would cope if she lost one of her parents, but she suspected she wouldn't be able to stay as collected as the Slytherin was now. He left the Quidditch team and he neglected most of his prefect duties during this last week, but other than that he showed no signs that there was something on his mind. He was the same as he had been lately, or well, he was perhaps a more annoyed version of the Malfoy she was used to.

Hermione actually felt glad that the boy was too busy acting irritated to notice her – she didn't know how she'd react if she had to face him now. Granted, he had no real reason to blame her for Narcissa's death, but the witch couldn't help but wait for a confrontation whenever she passed Malfoy in the hallway. She dreaded he would stop her and tell her it was her fault that he lost his mom, that she should have stopped him from going home that weekend, that she should have told the headmaster about the letter…

It was irrational to fear such a possibility, she knew that. Malfoy wouldn't accuse her for being the reason of whatever happened at his home. It was his private business after all, and of course he even seemed to be rather glad she didn't stop him from leaving Hogwarts when he last confronted her in that empty classroom. But well, that was before his mother…

Could he maybe… did he blame her _**now**_?

Hermione certainly _**did**_ blame herself for that matter. There was no waking moment when she didn't think about the things she could have done to prevent the current outcome of the situation. The guilt she felt was driving her mad, and not even in her sleep could she find a single moment of peace. After a while her nightmares – that mainly consisted of possible scenarios of how the Malfoy matriarch might have lost her life – became too much, she resolved to rather stay awake. As long as she could do her homework and didn't fall asleep in class, she would rather manage with only a few hours of actual sleep a day – if she had any at all.

Those images of Narcissa lying on the ground; Lucius targeting his son with a spell; Malfoy crying over a tomb… The media might have come up with a nice story of some kind of accident at the Malfoy Manor, but it was hardly believable, and Hermione's mind was overburdening her with possibilities of what _**really**_ could have happened…

Her thoughts were disturbed and her eyes snapped open when she heard the door open, and due to her quick reflexes she managed to jump out of the tub by the time she heard it slammed shut again. She quickly reached for her towel and tried to cover herself clumsily, feeling extremely thankful for her shyness that convinced her to wear a swimsuit. Just who the hell would enter the bathroom despite the sign that clearly said it was used? Surely, she couldn't forget flipping it, could she?

No, she might have been distracted recently, but she remembered clearly she uttered the spell after entering. Whoever took those furious steps in the short passage that led to the pool was definitely going to feel uncomfortable and apologize for missing the sign in just four steps…

Three…

Two…

One…

Sweet Merlin.

Hermione watched in terrified awe as Draco Malfoy hurried to the sinks and splashed some water to his face, failing to notice her presence entirely. He wore an angry expression, one that he wouldn't show in front of others these days as the witch suspected, and it made her heart clench. Was he in such deep agony all the time when they didn't see him?

The brunette stopped breathing the moment she spotted the lad, hoping for some kind of miracle that would cause him to go away without turning back and…

Oh well. So much about staying unnoticed.

Malfoy turned suddenly and his eyes widened in surprise, obviously not expecting the bathroom to be occupied. _'At least he didn't just ignore the sign then…'_ Hermione tried to calm herself while holding the towel in front of her body, but as the boy's gaze started to wander lower and lower she crossed her legs rather awkwardly. Then, within a second, Draco's angered expression was back, and he set out in the direction she was standing.

The girl barely had time to realize she was being attacked when she was already on her back, and her world went black for a few moments as her head connected with the hard floor. As her vision slowly cleared up she felt her breath hitch as something heavy pushed her into the floor even more, and ever so slowly, her senses started to pick up the coldness under her limbs and her shoulder blades.

She finally mastered up the strength to even her breathing and push the pain into the back of her head, and when she opened her eyes…

Bloody hell!

She was pinned under Malfoy, her arms angled parallel to each other under the small of her back, which made them effectively trapped under not just her own weight, but the Slytherin's as well.

It also made her body arch into the boy's lean figure, and when she noticed her discarded towel only a few feet away from them, she finally gave in to the panic when her brain registered what was happening.

"Took you long enough," smirked Malfoy only inches away from her face, piercing Hermione with his intensively studying gaze. He didn't seem to be amused the least, his grin was forced and malicious, but his stare contained something that could be described as curiosity as he watched the witch beginning to struggle against his weight.

"Let me go," Hermione squealed loudly, although she knew nobody was outside in the hallways to hear her cries because of the Quidditch match. Oh, if that damned sport was going to cause her death…

"No way," Malfoy eyed her threateningly, and she felt her pulse quicken as she realized that her attempts of freeing herself were futile. He was too heavy for her to lift, and without the help of her arms she was completely at the mercy of the wickedly grinning Slytherin. Dear God, what if he hurt her? Or worse… what if the scene she feared was going to become reality and he would tell her he blamed her for the death of his mom?

"I haven't punished you for stealing my letters yet."

Oh, the letters. Okay then. That's not the worst he could have said, is it? No, she could work with that topic. She was just going to apologize again, he would laugh in her face, and then he would proceed to kill her in a very, very slow and painful manner, that's all.

But, seriously? The lad just lost his mother and he was still concerned with punishing her for stealing those letters? Had he completely lost it after all?

One glance at his determined expression, and she knew that was not the case. As a matter of fact, he looked livelier than ever. Whatever reasons were buried behind his shining grey eyes, they told her that he was in perfect control over his actions, and it wasn't his _**sanity**_ she should be worried about…

"I'm going to scream bloody murder," she threatened when she felt Malfoy's eyes travel down to her neck. Suddenly she was very much aware of her missing clothing as his jumper started to get damp from the water on her body that her towel failed to absorb previously. She was successful in getting the boy's attention as he once more looked her directly in the eye, but she was not thankful for what she saw in his silver orbs.

"You wouldn't," he challenged cockily, and Hermione felt that if she didn't do it now, she would not have the opportunity to yell for help later. She gathered as much air in her lungs as she could, but Malfoy sensed her intention and he covered her mouth with his hand before she could open it, forcing her jaw up with his thumb painfully. The witch widened her eyes in realization and attempted to scream nonetheless, but it came out as a muffled cry that wouldn't make it past the door, she was sure.

Hermione was only vaguely aware of the blond haired guy's laughter, as her mind was busy picturing what the Slytherin intended to do to her. Her steadily rising panic caused her heart to beat so fast it nearly jump out of her chest, and she was sure Malfoy was well aware of her anxiety. His right hand held her mouth shut while his left began tracing the line of her neck, sending shivers through her body. He wouldn't actually… no, he couldn't be _**that**_ evil, could he?

All thoughts left her head when Malfoy leaned in closer and she felt teeth scraping against her skin before he bit down on her neck quite painfully.

'_No, no, no, no, NO! This cannot be happening! No! Not like this, please, no! NO!' _her thoughts were frantic, as she started struggling against the boy's body again, with renewed strength and urgency. She wouldn't let him have his way, it was not going to happen! Punishing someone for stealing something with rape was way past the moral line she could accept, not to mention her fright by having her virginity taken in such an inhuman, cruel manner.

"That's it, fight me," Draco encouraged her useless struggling as he whispered into her ear, and Hermione's eyes widened in realization. She became still immediately as she let a blush overtake her cheeks.

Blushing? No, this was not the time to feel shy. She had to dig up that famous Gryffindor courage if she wanted to get away, and Merlin knew she _**had**_ to get away before Malfoy did something unimaginable that couldn't be reverted. She shifted her body again, but Draco then started to plant butterfly kisses along the side of her neck, and the witch let out another stifled scream when he bit down on her collarbone.

She started to kick when she noticed she could still move her legs, and Malfoy threw his head back in pain when she managed to land a heavy kick on his shin. He shifted his weight slightly to adjust their position, but his hand never left her mouth and the movement didn't last long enough for her to free her hands. In another exhausting minute, he had her legs effectively trapped under his own, and Hermione had to realize she was unable to move any part of her body except her eyes.

She looked pleadingly at Malfoy, silently begging him to stop, but his determination did not falter. He picked up where he left and continued to nibble the skin that covered her collarbone. Hermione felt her eyes watering up and squeezed them shut to prevent the tears from falling. She tried to move her head so at least her attacker wouldn't see her troubled expression, but the boy's hand had a vice-like grip on her jaw. _'This isn't happening… this cannot be happening,' _she sobbed silently, _'Why would he want this? What did I do to earn this?'_

And then it clicked.

This wasn't punishment for those damned letters. This was her punishment for letting him go, for letting his mom die…

This was a punishment she actually deserved, she realized. After all, what was a simple shag compared to someone's death? That's right, they couldn't compare, not even if she wasn't willing.

But still, she didn't want this. She felt a single teardrop running down her temple, and just then did she register the burning feeling on the trail that Malfoy's lips traced previously. Her heart skipped a beat at the unfamiliar feeling, and something in her stomach twisted. She felt him smirking into her neck as he let his tongue tease her sensitive skin, and she let out a small yelp of surprise at the feeling that his ministrations evoked from her.

"Is that arousal I'm sensing, Granger?" he asked hoarsely, and she tried to shake her head in denial, but his grip didn't let her move one bit. No, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of enjoying what he was doing. Not that there was a chance she could enjoy these kinds of things, not when they were happening against her will, not when they were happening with _**him**_…

"It's not that bad, is it?" Malfoy prompted without expecting an actual answer, but Hermione refused to open her eyes, too afraid of looking into those grey orbs. He bit down on her skin again and gently started to suck on it, making the blood rush to the surface and forming a hickey. That was yet another feeling the witch was unfamiliar with. Surely, her first kiss had long been stolen, but Malfoy's actions were still new to her, and she could never be sure what kind of reaction to expect from her traitorous body. Was that really how arousal was supposed to feel? No, she couldn't feel turned on just from a few kisses and bites. She didn't even like Malfoy for crying out loud, how could he really expect her to enjoy this?

She just wanted this to be over.

Hermione felt as the Slytherin's warm lips wandered lower on her chest, and she felt a hand slipping under her back. It took her a second to realize the purpose, and her eyes finally popped open as apprehension hit her with renewed force. Malfoy's hand quickly undid the knot of the strings that held the top of her swimwear together, and in a moment the piece of clothing landed on the floor, carelessly tossed next to her towel.

The brunette couldn't help but look at the Slytherin, and another blush appeared on her face when she noticed the sheer lust he was eyeing her naked breasts with. His expression though suggested he was not much less surprised at his own reaction, but when their gazes met he quickly collected himself and let another unnerving grin take over his features.

Malfoy lowered his head once again and let his free hand caress the girl's side as his lips slowly made their way to her nipple. By that time Hermione's head was as red as a tomato, and she let her eyelids drop in shame when she felt Draco's tongue circle her left nipple. How dare he touch her so intimately in places she had never been touched before? Why won't he just let her go?

The boy's teeth sunk into her nipple for a moment and Hermione let out a quiet shriek from the short-lived pain, but her body involuntarily arched when Malfoy began to suck on her breast to ease the assault. A moan escaped her throat and she tried to shake her head when she realized it wasn't evoked by the pain. Could she really be…

No, no way. She _**really**_ just wanted this to be over. All she wanted was to be able to go back to her room, fetch a book and…

Oh my.

Hermione's thoughts were disoriented, and the more she tried to ignore Malfoy's tongue over her skin, the more feverish she felt. Could she really be aroused despite… well, despite this whole situation? It wasn't like she _**wanted**_ him to do this to her, but still…

Meanwhile Draco shifted and moved his mouth to her other nipple, blowing hot air on it and effectively making it hard in an instant. By the time his tongue started to work its magic Hermione was panting openly, her mind completely conflicted at the happenings. She was sure she didn't want this, but at the same time, her body's reactions couldn't be ignored any longer. She felt herself arch into the touch of Malfoy as he caressed her hips, and when she felt his other hand pinching her nipple…

Wait, when did he release her mouth?

Hermione's head suddenly cleared at the given opportunity, knowing well she would have to call for help while Malfoy was still distracted with… with…

Oh well. Screaming could surely wait for another minute or so, right?

The Slytherin adjusted their position so he could comfortably plant kisses on her belly by removing his weight from her torso and placing it on her legs instead. The witch felt she could move her arms under her back again, but had yet to make an attempt to free them. She felt Malfoy's wet tongue burning its path into her skin, and she actually had to force herself to remember she was supposed to cry for help when she opened her eyes again, but…

Damn. Hermione lifted her head and her gaze was met with the most erotic sight she ever had the chance to witness, and her breath hitched, making all her thoughts of screaming dissolve at once. Malfoy's silver-hair covered his closed eyes in mops, and his content expression didn't resemble any of those she saw him wear so far. He wasn't angry, he wasn't annoyed, and he wasn't amused or upset. He was simply… lost.

Malfoy seemed to be lost in a place of pure bliss, all his previous troubles forgotten. He shifted again as his mouth travelled down on her body steadily, and Hermione didn't have enough strength to blush again when she felt something hard pressing into her thigh. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she should move her arms and push him off, she knew she should take a deep breath and scream at the top of her lungs, but when she saw the wizard's tongue enter her navel…

"Fuck," Draco hissed as he suddenly retreated in a hurried manner, and turned his head in the direction of the entrance. It took a second for Hermione to realize what disturbed his actions, but when she heard the hallway filling up with cheerful shouts and footsteps, she realized the Quidditch match had to be over. The Gryffindor team didn't have much trouble winning against Slytherin ever since the latter house was forced to replace their seeker.

Malfoy stood up abruptly and just then did she realize she was saved. He wouldn't dare go further with so many Gryffindors running around just a wall away. She had been saved. That was good.

Well… that _**was**_ good… right?

She didn't have much time to dwell on her situation though, as the Slytherin picked her up with ease and before she could utter a protest she was being thrown into the water-filled bathtub fiercely.

She regained her balance quickly and stood up as soon as she could, but she still coughed a few times after surfacing. She rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on the figure standing above her, and when she saw Malfoy's hungry gaze on her still naked breasts she quickly covered her chest with her slightly numb arms.

The bloke eyed her with a content smirk on his face as he raised his arm, holding the deep-brown top of her swimsuit.

"I'll be keeping this," he stated confidently, his eyes never leaving Hermione's confused and shy expression, "until next time."

And just like that, Draco Malfoy was gone, leaving a terrified, embarrassed, but above all, confused witch behind.

'_What… what the bloody hell just happened?'_

_..._

_I warned you. :P_

_Reviews are always appreciated ;) Thank you for reading!_


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